Page 131 of Midnight Curfew

Maybe this is just what I need. Why shouldn’t I?

Finally?

He’s mature and not emotionally stunted with anger. I don’t want to be my father, but I’m not a priest, either. I deserve some fun. I deserve someone who wants me.

“Tomorrow,” I tell him. “I can’t go far from my stepsister right now, though. My family’s yacht has a kitchen. And some nice beds.”

“All to ourselves?”

My heart skips a beat. “Yes.”

“Text me the address.”

“Okay,” I breathe out.

I hang up, my pulse racing in my ears.

I don’t know if I would have pursued him, but I know this doesn’t feel like a mistake. It’s time to get lost in feeling good for a few hours with someone who can’t hurt me. At least not yet.

Turning, I stare at Dallas, who still watches me.

No idea what his problem is, but I never do.

And suddenly, I don’t care. Not tonight.

Walking back into the room, I call out to Sophia, “Fiore’s?”

She twists her head, beaming. “Pizza.”

She puts away her paints, and I take her hand, leading her out as Milo walks with us. Dallas’s eyes follow us, but I don’t spare him another glance.

19

Dallas

He was talking to someone he liked on the phone, which made me wonder how he would look if he were talking to me.

We had never spoken on the phone, though. At least when we were seeing each other. I never called him, and I never answered when he called. We texted. Short, to the point.

I shake my head and close my eyes, trying to relax as the breeze blows through the palms and oaks.

But I can’t get the picture of him out of my head. The blush on his cheeks. The smile on his excited lips. How his chest expanded with something like anticipation that he was too overwhelmed to let go.

His shoulder blades poking out of his clothes, leading down to a narrow waist, and the most perfect fucking ass, the outline far too visible through those track pants he was wearing. Maybe he was talking to that arrogant prick from the Wolfe Room. Maybe someone else, but it was definitely someone he was thinking about fucking.

I swallow, opening my eyes but seeing nothing.

He looked…aroused. Happy.

Like I wasn’t standing twelve feet away.

I heave a sigh. I should’ve started drinking when I got home hours ago.

Iron and I rest out by our pool, beers untouched while the happy couples play in the water. Macon holds his wife, their arms wrapped around each other as he carries her around the water. Liv and Clay laugh, kissing and nuzzling with drinks in hand.

Army should be back anytime. He sees a hot divorcée in St. Carmen after he gets done with work, but he only spends the night when her ex-husband has the kids. Curfew is about to start, so Trace will be at his pub till morning.

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Macon gripes.